


let me breathe you in

by sepiacigarettes



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Facials, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, I just wanna call it thigh fucking man, Intercrural Sex, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:53:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22924423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sepiacigarettes/pseuds/sepiacigarettes
Summary: Keith rolls his shoulders, feeling shy. “I think I loved you from the moment you climbed onto the roof, to be honest.”Shiro bites his lip and it’s so disarming, Keith’s gut clenches. “All these years…” he says. “I never had a moment. I just saw you and knew I had to have you in my life.”“You have me,” Keith assures him, and Shiro smiles. “However you want me.”Or: the roof has always been Shiro and Keith's spot, so it makes sense they have their first time there.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 55
Kudos: 294





	let me breathe you in

**Author's Note:**

> an early birthday fic for the bestest birthday boy 🖤

> You've got me on my knees, I’m your one man cult
> 
> Cross my heart and hope to die
> 
> Promise you I’ll never leave your side
> 
> Come sink into me and let me breathe you in
> 
> I’ll be your gravity, you be my oxygen
> 
> So dig two graves ‘cause when you die
> 
> I swear I'll be leaving by your side
> 
> So you can drag me through hell
> 
> If it meant I could hold your hand
> 
> I will follow you, I will follow you
> 
> — Bring Me The Horizon, _Follow You_

— K —

The roof has always been their spot.

Romelle always preferred to stay firmly planted on the ground whereas Keith declared the roof his favourite spot and climbed every tree he could find. If he could come back as any animal, Keith reckoned he would love to be a bird, to fly into the clouds and beyond.

His mama pressed kisses to his nose when he told her, saying, “You could be a phoenix up there, Kit, helping your Pop.”

Romelle wrinkled her nose as she curled into their pop’s chest, saying she wanted to be a fish like the ones in the pond next door.

“But, Romi, darlin’,” their pop said, “how will you strum the guitar with your lil’ fins?”

“I’ll find a way,” Romelle sniffed before giggling when Pop blew a raspberry onto her cheek.

Keith stole a look at the fish later and they weren’t _that_ interesting, if he was totally honest—they looked like regular goldfish. Romelle took great offence and did a thorough job of educating him out of that mindset the following day with a powerpoint presentation on the Amur carp species.

And then Shiro moved in next door.

His mother took a shine to Keith’s mama, his father got on with Keith’s pop, and just like that, after a Saturday afternoon barbecue with their families, Shiro waltzed into Keith’s life and never left.

He’s the first person Keith meets who doesn’t balk at the suggestion to climb onto Keith’s roof, who clambers eagerly up the tiles and sticks his head back down to ask what is taking Keith so long.

Earlier when they first met, Keith didn’t know what he thought of the dimpled boy sticking his hand out to shake.

“I’m Shiro,” he had said and Keith hesitated because he didn’t really like anyone at school, only ever talked to Romelle. She was the total opposite of him—a social butterfly through and through.

But when Keith had mumbled his name in response, Shiro had repeated it, and the way he said it made something inside Keith shift; the jagged points inside him were soothed for once instead of sharpening themselves.

So when Shiro teases him like that, Keith is helpless to follow, grumbling, “I’m getting there,” as he hoists himself up.

“Look at the stars,” Shiro sighs, and Keith isn't religious, not at all, but there’s something special about the way Shiro looks at that moment, something that Keith wants to always remember. 

“I come up here every night,” Keith admits. “Weather permitting.”

“Do you mind if I join you?” Shiro asks him.

“Why would I?”

So the roof turns into their spot.

— K —

“I'm going to see the stars one day,” Shiro tells him one night when they’re lying on the roof and trying to best each other at how many constellations they can name. 

Earlier that day, Shiro had looped his arm around Keith’s neck at lunch and murmured into his ear about how much he detested Mr Deckers, their physics teacher, for assigning homework for the holidays. Keith snorted into his sandwich and Romelle stole some of Shiro’s chocolate and it was just another in the many days of happiness that Shiro brought with him.

“Yeah?” Keith hums.

“Yeah. Gonna fly up to the moon and put my footprint on it, right next to Neil Armstrong’s.”

“You're insane,” Keith says, because he knows that look in Shiro’s eye, knows that he has already made up his mind.

Shiro is stubborn and adventurous and ambitious. A childhood of being poked and prodded more than pin cushion, of being told he wasn’t supposed to live has made Shiro determined to have everything he can. 

And he does.

He’s the top of his grade, the boy who everyone wants to be friends with, the student every teacher loves. He has Keith’s heart in his hands and he doesn’t even know it.

“You watch,” Shiro says.

“I will,” Keith answers, and Shiro rolls over and tickles him until Keith's sides and cheeks hurt.

So he watches, as Shiro blitzes his entrance exams and gets accepted to the Galaxy Garrison with a full scholarship for the next three years. They celebrate under the Shirogane gazebo, Romelle sneaking sips of champagne and Keith listening to his pop play the guitar.

It’s much later when Shiro finds him on the roof again, after Romelle kissed Keith’s cheek goodnight and told him not to fall asleep up there, the way she always did.

Shiro says nothing, just lies down next to Keith. The summer has been good to him; it’s given him a tan and a sharp jawline and the kind of hairstyle that Keith knows all the girls at school would talk about.

Keith’s chest wants to explode. Shiro is lying right next to him but it feels like he’s inside Keith’s ribcage instead.

“I’m so happy for you, Shiro,” Keith whispers, even if every part of him aches.

“Thank you,” Shiro says just as quietly, and he shuffles close enough to brush Keith’s hand with his own. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back before you know it.”

— K —

Eventually time passes quickly, Keith knows this, but the first week without Shiro is horrible. Shiro hugged him goodbye and left with a grin that could power this whole city with how brilliant it was, and Keith is stupidly happy for him but so adrift without him.

The second week still stings and the third one is nowhere near comfortable. By the fourth week, Keith is used to the missing pieces of Shiro. At night, he sits on the roof, looking to the heavens and imagining Shiro doing the exact same from his room. Sometimes Romelle joins him. She wraps blankets around the two of them and delivers the hot chocolate their pop made, as well as their mama's reminder to go to bed at a semi reasonable hour.

Other times Shiro calls and Keith shares his screen with the Shiroganes before escaping to the roof. They talk about their days as the stars come out, and Keith falls asleep more than once, lulled by Shiro’s voice.

It’s a long, drawn out four months.

But Shiro comes back.

He comes back and Keith barely has time to skip over to Shiro’s house and knock before Shiro is yanking the door open and scooping him into a hug.

He smells like laundry powder and Shiro and Keith wants to say, _I missed you,_ but he buries the words into the fabric of Shiro's shirt instead.

“Do they love you?” Keith asks that night as they stargaze. I _love you._

“Nah,” Shiro scoffs. “As if.”

“How could they not?”

Holidays pass too quickly for Keith’s liking; Shiro is gone in two weeks, and the pieces of Keith scatter all over again.

It’s both easier and harder; easier because of how much schoolwork Keith has now, harder because of the evenings on the roof calling Shiro where he says things like, ‘what has Romi called the latest koi?’ and ‘it’s so dark out here, the stars are even brighter than home’ and ‘I wish you could see this, Keith’.

— K —

The second time Shiro comes home is for the summer holidays. He’s gotten bigger, beefier, and he has a new undercut to boot.

Before was bad enough for Keith, with Shiro’s dimples and million dollar smile and eyes that crinkle up when he’s happy; now, Keith doesn’t stand a chance.

They curl on the rooftop after dinner and Shiro taps Keith on the nose lightly, smiling at him. “The higher brass think I might be able to go on the Kerberos mission,” he says. “They think I’ve got what it takes.”

“Of course you do,” Keith tells him, because how can Shiro doubt himself? He’s the best person Keith knows.

Shiro’s fingers trace circles on Keith’s hip. It’s new, but not unwanted. Definitely not unwanted.

“Do you really think so?” Shiro is brave and always a leader but right now he looks boyish and scared.

“How could I not?” Keith says.

— K —

Shiro gets the confirmation at the beginning of his next year. He calls Keith about it, breathless enough to tell Keith that he ran outside to tell him the first moment he could. Romelle asks if he can bring back a piece of moonrock for her to add to her growing crystal collection.

Shiro tells her he isn’t sure if that’s legal or not.

“When are you comin’ home again, son?” Keith’s pop says. “We miss you.”

_“Especially_ Keith,” Keith’s mama adds.

Keith groans and ducks out of her reach, slipping away to the staircase. He sprints past Romelle’s room before she can ensnare him and Shiro into her card game with Acxa and Hunk, and slips into his room.

A moment later he’s crawling through his window onto the roof, hoping he can blame the heat of his face on the workout he just did.

_“You’re missing me, huh?”_ Shiro jokes as Keith settles on the tiles.

“Shut the fuck up,” Keith grumbles. “You know I always do.”

_“You’ll see me soon enough,”_ Shiro soothes.

“How soon?” Keith demands.

_“Tomorrow,”_ Shiro says.

“Don’t fuck with me.”

“I’m serious!”

But he _does_ come home the next day, just in time for the long weekend, and Keith can barely keep himself contained at school when Shiro sends him a snap. He’s sitting on Keith’s bed and the text reads, _where’s my favourite at?_ and really, that’s unfair to send when Keith still has another two hours of class.

He says as much when Shiro bear hugs him and Shiro just hums and holds him tighter.

Mrs Shirogane tells Keith he is more than welcome to stay in Shiro’s room for the night, as if they don’t live less than fifty yards from Keith’s own house. Keith doesn’t think about anything other than agreeing.

Shiro’s room is bigger than Keith’s—his whole house is—and so is his mattress, but he tosses and turns for a solid ten minutes, as if it’s the most uncomfortable thing ever, before sitting up.

Keith, next to him, understands.

“Roof?” he asks.

“Roof,” Shiro confirms.

It’s cloudy as they cross over to Keith’s house and take his bedding onto the tiles. Tomorrow is meant to rain, but it hasn't deterred Romelle’s plan to abduct them to the beach, and it doesn’t stop them from setting up the blankets into a nest of sorts.

The roof is their spot, always has been, but this is different, lying in their makeshift bed on the roof with no excuse of stargazing to explain why.

“Will you wave to me when you’re up there?” Keith says, feeling very small.

Shiro brushes Keith’s cheek with his knuckles. “Of course I will.”

It’s a monster inside of Keith, this ravenous thing that begs for Shiro’s touch. Nothing is ever enough.

“A whole year,” Keith says, hating how the very notion of it makes him want to vomit.

“Don’t say it like that,” Shiro says. “I’m coming back.”

“I’m really going to miss you,” Keith confesses.

That makes Shiro’s face crumple up. “It’ll go so fast, you’ll barely notice.”

_Yes I will,_ Keith thinks. _I always notice when you're gone._

— K —

Only family are allowed at the launch, something that Keith deeply resents, because Shiro _is_ family to him, has been for the last five years since he stomped his way onto the roof and right into Keith’s heart. But it can't be helped.

Shiro takes him to breakfast on the day he has to leave to make up for it, looking like a model as he sips coffee and makes Keith laugh.

When their cups are down to the dregs, Shiro leans over.

“I’m really sorry,” he says. “But I should head off.”

_Don’t go,_ Keith thinks, _it’s only been a few minutes,_ but it’s been three hours and Shiro really should go if he wants to arrive at the Garrison with enough leeway.

That’s the thing about being in Shiro’s orbit—time always ceases to exist.

Keith told himself last night he wasn’t going to cry. Doing so would only make it harder for both of them and Keith never wants to burden Shiro. Except it comes out anyway, and Shiro hums sadly and gathers Keith close.

“I’ll call,” he promises, “whenever I can, I promise.”

“Okay,” Keith keeps saying as each sob forces its way out. “Okay.”

“I miss you already,” Shiro laughs sadly, and then he presses his lips to Keith’s cheek.

It’s still tingling when Shiro drives off with his parents. Keith can’t even walk inside his house. He just falls to his knees in the grass and wonders if his vision will ever stop being blurry.

His pop finds him first, murmuring, “Oh, son, Kit.”

His mama is next, brushing tears away. Romelle blots tissues on his face and it’s honestly the worst Keith has ever felt. He doesn’t have words for it. It feels silly too, because Shiro is right, it’s only a year, but it’s still a _whole year_ without Shiro and that makes Keith cry harder.

Shiro leaving always felt like being scattered but this—this feels like imploding. It feels like a tree being felled, like the sky caving in, like a star collapsing.

Keith doesn’t fight it.

And blessedly, his family let him.

— K —

The days bleed past. Keith doesn’t sleep properly for weeks. It isn’t until an entire month has passed that Shiro is able to call, and even then it’s limited to fifteen minutes. He spends half the time answering his mother’s worried questions about eating and sleeping habits, another portion entertaining Romelle and Keith’s parents, and the last two minutes asking Keith how he’s doing.

The reception is pretty terrible considering the distance from Earth, but he’s still the most beautiful thing in Keith’s life.

_I love you,_ Keith thinks. “I miss you,” he says instead.

Shiro scrunches his nose up. _“I miss you too.”_

On the weekend, Romelle tells Keith he’s on feeding duty with her. It’s not a duty, because Romelle deigned to do the task herself from the moment the Shirogane family moved in, but Keith is glad for the distraction.

“Does he know?”

Romelle is preoccupied with feeding the Shirogane koi but Keith can tell it’s a front.

“Know what?”

“That you _love_ him,” Romelle answers readily. “Wait, no, that's not quite right. We all love him, don’t we? But does he know you're _in_ love with him?”

“I never said,” Keith says. It’s one of the many things he regrets not telling Shiro.

“You should,” Romelle says, like it’s that easy, like it hasn’t only been one month and Keith still has to endure through eleven more.

— K —

Despite the emotional turmoil, it’s objectively the best year of Keith’s life. He soars to the top of his grade, smashing Shiro’s records in everything except for biology, because that was always Shiro’s forté and Keith has always detested it. 

Romelle drags him to prom, and she looks like a princess swathed in white organza as he takes turns with Acxa and Hunk sweeping her around the room. On his eighteenth, they sneak out to a bar in the city and get too drunk on the vodka shots Hunk pushes at them, and when dawn rolls around Keith finds himself trying to focus on Shiro’s face as he calls from Kerberos.

_“Happy birthday, Keith,”_ Shiro beams. _“What did you wish for?”_

“You’re not supposed to find out,” Keith slurs.

_“But you’re going to tell me anyway.”_

It’s _so_ true.

“For you to come home,” Keith says, a little breathless, a little desperate.

_“Only six more months,”_ Shiro soothes. 

“Only six? That’s _forever.”_

_“I believe in you.”_ And then: _“Drink some water, baby.”_

When Keith wakes up with a hangover from hell, he isn’t sure if he imagined that last part.

The year drags its feet, and it feels like one lifetime or ten have passed when Keith eventually tosses his graduation cap up into the air with Romelle.

Shiro’s parents are there as well, taking photos alongside Keith’s.

“Shiro will want them too,” Mrs Shirogane says and Keith turns as red as his gown.

“Can’t have him miss out on his favourite,” Romelle adds.

“Definitely not,” their parents chime in.

Keith scowls at all of them.

— K —

Spring is long gone by the time Shiro comes home after touching the stars.

Keith thought Shiro was beefier when he returned after his first year at the Garrison, but a year in space has somehow made him even bigger. Now, he literally fills up the doorframe.

“Keith,” is the first thing Shiro says, and he doesn’t even have to pull Keith close because Keith is already there.

“It’s good to have you back,” he hiccups, wishing his arms were longer so he could wrap them around Shiro all the way and keep him from ever leaving.

Shiro’s laugh is Keith’s favourite sound. “It’s good to be back.”

“Don't go again.”

“I can’t promise that,” Shiro says, nosing at Keith’s cheek, hands squeezing Keith’s sides. ‘But I’m all yours for the next month.”

“All mine? For a whole month?”

“I know,” Shiro groans theatrically. “You’ll be so sick of me.”

Keith puts his palm over Shiro’s mouth. _“Never.”_

Shiro’s eyes sparkle and Keith wonders if he replaced his hand with his mouth, what would Shiro do? He never finds out, though, because Romelle tackles Shiro next, and then Keith’s mama and pop, and then they’re being dragged under the gazebo for Shiro’s homecoming dinner.

Maybe some other time, Keith tells himself.

— K —

It’s after midnight when he steals out onto the roof again. Shiro follows, and they both end up giggling like idiots when he whacks his head on the window as he crawls through it.

“Shh,” Keith snorts, helping him out. They probably had a bit too much whiskey. “You’ll wake the whole neighbourhood at this rate.”

Shiro shoves him. “Shut up and take the blankets.”

“I’m _getting_ there.”

“Get there _faster.”_

They settle together amongst the pile of blankets and pillows, still chuckling. The stars are bright, the moon is high, and it’s the kind of moment of happiness that Keith always sees in movies, except it’s _real,_ it’s right here.

“I missed you,” Keith whispers.

“I missed you more,” Shiro says like the competitive shit he is.

“Impossible,” Keith thinks, heart thudding, because the entire year felt like Keith was missing the other parts of himself and there’s no way Shiro could ever love him as much as Keith loves Shiro.

Shiro’s thumb brushes Keith’s jaw, his cheek. He shuffles closer, repeats the movement with his nose, feather light over Keith’s face until Keith’s heartbeat feels like it’s tripled. 

“I don’t think so,” Shiro murmurs, hand finding Keith’s shoulder next and stroking down his arm. “God, I missed you more than anything.”

Keith can’t help it; he winds his arms around Shiro’s neck and holds him fiercely.

“Shiro?”

“Hm?”

The stars spin overhead and the moon is paler than the oldest koi in the Shirogane pond and Keith finds the words he’s been hiding underneath his tongue all this time: “I love you.”

Shiro responds by burying his face in Keith’s shoulder, and Keith has never known a tighter embrace. _“Keith.”_

_I do, I do,_ Keith’s heart sings. _I love you so much._

Shiro pulls away and for a brief moment, Keith panics. Should he have specified? Romelle was right in saying they all loved Shiro, but Keith is the only one _in_ love with him.

The panic is for naught.

“I love you too,” Shiro says, “So much,” and he leans down and kisses Keith right then and there, on the rooftop of his childhood home.

It's a beat before Keith registers, another until his body moves, like ice cracking on the surface of a frozen lake. He feels as though he’s been dreaming for so long about it happening, to actually have it makes Keith freeze.

But at the end of it, Shiro's mouth is still pressed to his, and Keith _melts,_ arms winding tighter than a noose.

It’s his first kiss, because he’s never had the time or desire to learn, but there’s something easy about kissing Shiro, like he’s known how to all along. Shiro’s chest is flush against Keith, his arms strong where they wrap around Keith's body, and this would be a perfect way to die, Keith thinks, just being completely covered by his best friend.

Shiro, whose tongue is running along Keith's top lip and whose hands are gripping Keith’s thighs. He kisses Keith as though they’ve been doing this since they first laid together on the roof, as if it’s a regular occurrence for Shiro to slot between Keith’s legs and for Keith to tangle a hand in Shiro's hair.

Except it isn’t.

The kiss breaks when Shiro pulls away—to breathe or regret it, who knows. Keith is stuck underneath him, staring up at the flush across Shiro’s nose. He doesn't want to know what his pulse is like _now._

“Sorry,” Shiro blurts out. “I, um. I should have asked.”

“You didn't have to.”

Shiro bows his head. His laugh is shy. “No?”

“No. Never. You never had to ask.”

Shiro looks like he doesn’t know what to do with that information. “I didn't?”

Keith rolls his shoulders, feeling shy. “I think I loved you from the moment you climbed onto the roof, to be honest.”

Shiro bites his lip and it’s so disarming, Keith’s gut clenches. “All these years…” he says. “I never had a moment. I just saw you and knew I had to have you in my life.”

“You have me,” Keith assures him, and Shiro smiles. “However you want me.”

“I'm all yours,” Shiro says as he brushes their noses together. “All yours. Tell me what you want.”

“Kiss me again.”

So Shiro does.

His mouth is soft, his kiss gentle, a whisper of something more if Keith wishes it.

Keith wishes.

He tilts his head and cards his fingers through Shiro’s hair as he opens his mouth, lets Shiro kiss him deep and slow. The night is quiet as always but Shiro is decidedly not, making pleased little sounds as he winds his tongue around Keith’s and holds Keith to him, palms warm through Keith’s shirt.

He’s so warm.

It turns messy when Keith lets his hands wander. Shiro hasn’t been nearly as hesitant, fingers slipping under Keith’s shirt along his spine, tucking into the waistband of Keith’s pants, urging Keith’s legs up to wrap around his waist. It’s barely coordinated when Shiro licks Keith’s mouth, when he grinds down against him. Keith feels like he’s steadily being turned to liquid at each touch and kiss from Shiro, the hard line of Shiro’s dick pressing against his hip and making his head spin.

“This is okay, right?” Shiro gets out, voice rough and low with want.

“Fuck, yes,” Keith mutters, fisting a hand in Shiro’s hair and reeling him back in.

Shiro lets him, kisses and kisses Keith like they’ll never have the chance again, but Keith has never loved anyone else and he’ll be damned if this is their only time.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he confesses into the hot space between their mouths.

“It’s okay,” Shiro assures him. “We’ll learn together.”

And that’s that.

Shiro’s mouth finds his again, hot and slick and the kind of addictive that Keith didn’t know was possible to feel, but it _is_ and Keith is flush against Shiro except it feels like he can’t get close enough. He could keep doing this until the end of time, could kiss Shiro under the stars and listen to him gasp into Keith’s mouth until the world fell to pieces. 

“Fuck,” Shiro rasps, breaking away to scatter kisses along Keith’s cheek and jaw, hand cupping the back of Keith’s neck. “Fuck, this is still okay, right?”

“What makes you think it isn’t?” Keith pants, a sigh escaping him when Shiro sucks slowly on his neck.

“Good,” Shiro says, hands returning to the waistband of Keith’s pants and daring to slip inside. He gropes a handful of Keith’s ass and Keith can’t stop the whine that comes out.

“Here? Really?” Keith raises a brow, giddy from the way Shiro noses insistently at his neck. “On the roof?”

“You're right,” Shiro says into Keith’s throat, but he doesn't move.

Instead he pushes up under the hem of Keith's shirt, broad palm sweeping along his ribs as he drops kisses onto Keith’s neck. Keith sucks in his next breath, lets it all out in a rush when Shiro’s fingers find his nipple and brush over it.

“Just…” Shiro says as he leans back to watch what he’s doing, and then he’s bending down to mouth at it, tongue circling gently as Keith twitches beneath him.

“Oh.” Keith didn’t know he was so sensitive there, only finds out when Shiro drags his tongue along it and the jolt of pleasure makes Keith’s fist tighten in Shiro’s hair.

“Fuck, sorry,” Keith hiccups. “Sorry.”

“You’re so pretty,” Shiro whispers in response, as if it didn’t hurt at all. 

Keith doesn’t know what to say to that so he tugs him back up to kiss, lets it melt both of them as Shiro’s thumb finds his other nipple and brushes over it.

“Does that feel good?” Shiro asks and Keith can only nod, slotting his mouth against Shiro’s more desperately and circling his hips.

“Yeah, Shiro,” he says, frantic.

“I’ve got you,” Shiro answers, always understanding him. “I’m right here, baby.”

_Baby._

Keith has to hide his face in Shiro’s shoulder at the word, his whole body feeling as though it’s been lit on fire. “Oh.”

“Baby?” Shiro repeats, ignorant of the delight that sings through Keith as he nuzzles his neck. “Can I call you that?”

Keith just nods. “You—I mean, already—my birthday—”

Shiro leans back. “Ah. Yeah, it kinda slipped out.”

“I thought I dreamt it,” Keith breathes.

“I’m guessing it’s not a bad thing then.”

“Fuck _no.”_

When Shiro kisses him once more, Keith wraps his legs around his waist and pushes his hips up. The muffled noise Shiro makes into his mouth is a reward enough, made even better when Shiro does the movement back, and god okay, he’s _huge_ and Keith is _hard_ but Shiro is bigger and harder and Keith thinks he might die if Shiro doesn’t touch him.

“You can,” Shiro nods at the unspoken question, mouth bruising Keith’s jaw with sloppy kisses.

So Keith runs his hands over Shiro’s chest, squeezing his pecs, grasping his ribs. Shiro is a walking marbled god, his muscles emphasised by the cling of the black shirt he’s wearing and the fact that Keith was literally just being crushed underneath all of _that_ makes another throb of pleasure course through him.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, pulling his lip between his teeth as he finds the hem of Shiro’s shirt and pushes it up.

Shiro helps him, tugging his shirt over his head and ruffling his hair in the process, and he’s a wet dream, he’s the best thing Keith has ever seen in his life.

“Come here,” Keith says, stupidly breathless with want and finding it harder and harder to care when Shiro comes obediently and licks his way into Keith’s mouth.

The summer night is warm and Keith’s skin is warmer, but Shiro pulls the blankets over them, biting softly on Keith’s lip as his fingers tug on Keith’s waistband. “Can I?” he asks.

Keith doesn’t think he’s ever nodded quicker.

Shiro’s hand pushes into his boxers, and then he’s wrapping around Keith’s dick and squeezing and Keith whimpers, closing his eyes. “Shit…”

“Okay?” Shiro asks, fingers light as they drag over the length of him.

Keith manages a high-pitched whine in the back of his throat, legs falling open at the movement. _“Yeah.”_

Shiro hums, mouth returning to Keith’s chest to drag along his sternum. “Tell me,” Shiro says as he strokes. “What do you like?”

“This,” Keith wheezes. “It’s pretty good already.”

“Just good?” Shiro says, thumb sweeping over the cockhead and catching the blurt of precome there.

“Better,” Keith manages, whining when Shiro uses the precome to stroke properly and licks Keith’s nipple into his mouth. “Oh fuck.”

“Yeah?” Shiro hums and when Keith doesn’t manage much beyond another whine, Shiro sighs happily and keeps going. “God. _Years?”_

Keith nods, barely starting to process the fact that he could have had Shiro before Kerberos. “I never thought I’d get to have you,” he says. “Not like this.”

“You always had me,” Shiro hums, tonguing shapes onto Keith’s too-hot skin. “You just didn’t know it yet.”

Keith tugs on Shiro’s hair when his mouth closes over Keith’s throat again, when the calluses on his hand catch the underside of his cock. “Fuck.”

“You’ve no idea how much I thought about this,” Shiro admits, and his hand is twisting on the upstroke and Keith is trembling at how good it feels to have Shiro touching him, kissing him, mouthing messy kisses onto his skin and murmuring things like, “you’re so responsive,” and, “used to go to bed and jerk off and think of you the whole time.”

“Really?” Keith asks, burning hotter at the idea of Shiro lying in his bed and fucking his fist. “Show me?”

The laugh that Shiro makes is breathless and disbelieving, but he stops, squeezing the base of Keith’s cock before he lets Keith push him onto his back. Keith is on him immediately, anxious to taste the salty skin of Shiro’s abs and Shiro’s pleased groan washes away any residual embarrassment Keith has.

“Show me,” Keith repeats, venturing past Shiro’s waistband to grip his cock. It throbs in Keith’s hand, hard and thick, and Keith strokes over it carefully, wondering what it would feel like in his mouth, if Shiro would let him do that. “Tell me what to do.”

“Jesus, Keith,” Shiro says, laughing like he did before as he reaches down and covers Keith’s hand with his own. “Here, like this.” The slide of their hands over Shiro’s dick makes them both sigh, Shiro swearing softly. He’s truly beautiful like this, cheeks flushed and staring at Keith. “Yeah, just like that, baby.”

Their hands are slick with precome and Shiro’s free hand curls around Keith’s neck, hauls him into a kiss that’s more teeth than anything but still makes Keith’s body thrum at the heat behind it.

“Fuck,” he whispers, pulling away to bite his lip and he’s _so_ hot, Keith wants everything. “Fuck, baby—”

“Shh,” Keith says, mouthing at Shiro’s lips to keep him quiet, because they’re still on the roof and it’s dark and secluded but the last thing he wants is for anyone to _hear_ them. “Shh, Shiro.”

Shiro whimpers, knee knocking into Keith’s side as his legs come up around Keith, and the new angle makes it harder for Keith to jerk him unless he leans back.

“Wait,” Shiro gasps out when Keith draws away. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” Keith agrees, but he’s still thinking about Shiro’s dick in his mouth and he really doesn’t think Shiro would say no, so instead he leans down and licks Shiro’s cockhead.

The groan that Shiro makes is better than _gold._

Confident that he’s on the right track, Keith laughs softly and says, “You’ve got to be quiet,” before gripping the base of Shiro’s cock properly as he opens his mouth and sinks down.

“Oh god—” Shiro says, loud enough for Keith to be concerned. “Keith—” and then he breaks off into a whine that makes Keith’s ears burn.

“Shh,” he says again, and they’re both a little breathless and silly and Keith is _so_ turned on by the weight of Shiro’s dick and the taste of him on his tongue. _“Shiro.”_

“I know, I know,” Shiro says guiltily. “I just—fuck, Keith, baby…”

Keith really likes the endearment rolling off Shiro’s tongue and he kisses him lightning quick before licking his cock into his mouth again.

Shiro smells like sweat and musk and Keith keeps going until his nose is buried in curls, until he can feel the burn of Shiro’s cockhead against the back of his throat. He’s so big, Keith’s mouth feels like it’s stretched to his limit as he forces in air through his nose, tears gathering at the corner of his eyes. Shiro makes a plaintive sound and thumbs at them but Keith ignores him, telling himself to relax as he swallows.

“Fuck,” Shiro swears, hips bucking and catching Keith off-guard and making him choke. “Oh god, baby, I’m sorry—”

“I’m okay,” Keith rasps, wiping his eyes.

Shiro looks so apologetic that Keith has to laugh, and then they’re both giggling together as Shiro runs his thumb over Keith’s swollen lips. “Jesus, Keith. That felt amazing.”

“I barely did anything,” Keith protests. “Let me try again.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to.”

“I’m going to,” Keith says, because he knows he doesn’t have to but god, does he want to.

So he goes down again, drinking in the little twitches and grunts Shiro makes as he does, tongue curling around the shaft and bobbing his head. 

Amongst the blankets and stars, Keith finds a rhythm, the noises slick and loud in the quiet of their nest each time he draws up. It’s messy and repetitive and _good,_ to be between Shiro’s legs and sucking his cock like Keith has nothing better to do with his time, because he doesn’t, there’s nothing better than being here and watching the rise and fall of Shiro’s sculpted chest and the crease of his brow as he moans.

“Baby,” Shiro breathes when Keith pauses, eyes half-lidded and cheeks flushed pink. “Fuck, look at you.”

Keith’s cheeks hurt and his jaw aches and his neck is beginning to get uncomfortable but he swallows Shiro’s cock with as much finesse as he can, fuelled on by Shiro’s pleased noises.

“Your fucking _mouth,”_ Shiro says, hand curling around Keith’s jaw until he can _feel_ the slide of his cock into Keith’s mouth and they both groan. “God, baby, you feel so fucking good.”

Keith’s throat is still rebelling against him and his eyes are still watering slightly, but Shiro doesn’t seem to mind the mess as he wraps his fingers around what Keith can’t fit in his mouth.

His other hand pushes Keith’s hair from his face, sweeps across his cheek, and then it’s absolutely _filthy,_ the way Shiro holds Keith in place and rubs his cock across his lips. Keith whimpers at the movement, tongue darting out to catch the precome and spit dripping down the shaft.

“Yeah,” Shiro chokes, repeating the movement and dragging his cock through the mess on Keith’s chin. “You take me so fucking well,” he growls, feeding his cock back into Keith’s willing mouth and pushing him down by the grip on his hair. 

Eyes closing, Keith moans around Shiro’s cock as the blowjob turns sloppy, drool smearing down his chin. He lets his bottom lip drag along the underside, allows Shiro to move him on his cock by the grip on his hair, completely at Shiro’s behest and wanting nothing else.

“Keith,” Shiro says, trembling all over and it does something to Keith, to be the one making Shiro shake and moan like that. _“Fuck,_ baby, you’re gonna make me _come.”_

At the admission, Keith pulls back, voice hoarse as he says, “Shiro, yes, _please—"_

“Where?” Shiro gasps, and _fucking hell,_ this is their first time but he’s completely shameless and Keith is so _so_ hard because of it. “On your face? Or in your mouth?”

Keith’s face _burns_ and he rubs it against Shiro’s thigh as Shiro jerks off, stumbling over his words as he says, “Both? I don’t— _Shiro.”_

“I’ve got you,” Shiro says, pushing between Keith’s lips again and using both hands this time to ease Keith down his cock and Keith barely gets a breath in before Shiro is in his throat again and thrusting his hips up. “Fuck…” Shiro groans, still moving Keith however he likes and it goes and goes and goes for so long that Keith thinks maybe he missed it, maybe Shiro isn’t close to the edge anymore.

But then he’s being yanked up and Shiro’s hand is a blur over his cock and Keith only just manages to stick out his tongue before Shiro is coming with a muffled groan, thick strands landing on Keith’s mouth and cheek and jaw.

“Fuck,” Shiro whispers, _“Fuck.”_

Keith blinks at him, the hazy fog of lust still clouding his mind as Shiro tugs him down and kisses him.

“Keith,” Shiro bites out, licking Keith’s used lips and groping his ass again. His thumb finds Keith’s nipples again and Keith jolts in his arms, so hard it’s almost painful. There’s little relief to be found in rutting against Shiro’s thick thigh, but Shiro is right there, fingers circling Keith’s dick and stroking him.

“Please,” Keith shudders, tucking his face against Shiro’s neck.

“Let me—” Shiro says, attempting to push Keith off him but Keith clamps his thighs around Shiro’s and shakes his head. “Keith, baby, just a minute—”

But Keith doesn’t want to move, his dick is slotting against the valley of Shiro’s abs and he’s too impatient. “Like this.”

“No,” Shiro says, and the tone of finality in his voice almost makes Keith recoil and wonder _why_ he’s being denied, until Shiro shifts him and guides Keith’s cock between his thighs. “Like _this,”_ he urges, and then he squeezes and Keith nearly loses his mind at the pressure.

“Holy shit—” he gasps as he falls forward, helpless at the press of Shiro's thighs.

It’s slick enough with sweat and precome and spit for Keith to fuck him like that, and Shiro makes him, eyes pinned to where Keith’s cock disappears.

“That’s it, baby,” Shiro pants. “Does that feel good?”

“Uh huh,” Keith nods, murmuring nonsense as he pistons his hips and fucks Shiro’s thighs. “Shiro,” he stutters, Shiro’s thighs hot and tight around his cock.

“That’s it,” Shiro says. “God, look at you, you’re fucking perfect.”

_“Shiro.”_

“Come on, baby,” Shiro grins and he’s beautiful and devastating and all Keith’s, that’s _all_ for Keith. “Fuck, I want you inside me.”

“Next time,” Keith pants, clumsy with desire as he slots his mouth over Shiro’s.

“Next time,” Shiro confirms. “Next time I want you to fuck me.”

Keith is too far gone to try and formulate an answer to _that._ He should have known Shiro would be a talker.

“Yeah,” Shiro babbles. “I’d get on my hands and knees for you, baby, let you fuck me until I’m _begging_ for it.”

Keith slaps a palm over Shiro’s mouth at that, leaning down to pant harshly into Shiro’s ear as the pleasure coils tighter and tighter within him.

“Sorry,” he slurs, hand falling from Shiro’s face as he gets his knees under him and thrusts _hard._ “Sorry, they’ll hear you—we can’t—holy _fuck,_ Shiro, I’m gonna—”

“You’re gonna come?” Shiro encourages. “Fuck yes, sweetheart, let me see, show me, I want to see you—Keith, Keith, _oh,_ there you go…”

“Shiro,” Keith grits out, “Shit—” and he barely gets his hand around his dick before he’s spilling all over Shiro’s heaving chest.

Keith’s ears are ringing.

It’s a soft lazy kiss that Shiro tugs him into, more sighing into each other’s mouths than anything else. Keith lets it wash over him, no longer frenzied as Shiro smiles at him, teeth digging into Keith’s bottom lip playfully.

“So,” Keith starts, knowing his face is turning red as he lets the reality of what they just did, of what Shiro _said,_ sink in. “That was…something.”

“Something,” Shiro repeats, unimpressed, but he’s also blushing so it makes two of them.

Keith hides behind his hair, rubbing his nose. “It, um. Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Shiro nods.

“I really love you,” Keith confesses, heart pounding even harder than it was before.

“I love you too,” Shiro says. “I think I always have.”

“Shiro,” Keith whines. “You can’t just _say_ that.” 

Shiro sits up and pulls Keith into his lap, linking his arms behind Keith’s back. “I just did, baby.”

Keith grasps his face and kisses him, giddy and _so_ in love he thinks he’s going to burst from the happiness. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

— K —

A week later, Keith sits on the roof as he opens a letter from the Galaxy Garrison with shaky hands.

_Dear Keith,_ it reads, _we are pleased to offer you a place at the Galaxy Garrison—_

And that’s all Keith gets to before Shiro is tackling him, yelling, “You got in!”

“I got in,” Keith repeats dumbly and Shiro laughs and kisses him fiercely.

“We’re gonna touch the stars together,” Shiro vows, and then he doesn’t let Keith up for a while.

And that’s okay.

After all, the roof has always been their spot.

**Author's Note:**

> come and bug me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/sepiacigarettes)!


End file.
